


Gasoline

by wasted_potential_007



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Emotions, F/F, Flashbacks, Kissing, More angst, Natasha-centric, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Somehow Natasha's the one who is the mess, Swearing, Wanda has her shit together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 04:19:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasted_potential_007/pseuds/wasted_potential_007
Summary: In which Natasha's the one that needs saving, and Wanda's stable enough to do it.Nothing's graphic, the archive warning is for mentions of non-con. Uses lyrics from Halsey's Gasoline because it's honestly so fitting to Natasha's character.





	Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to put a different spin on Natasha... 
> 
> INSPIRED BY HALSEY'S "GASOLINE" if you can't tell. All lyrics belong to Halsey, no copyright infringement intended.
> 
> So yeah I wrote this trash in a span of an hour and a half not even really so I'm just-  
> 1\. Super tired.  
> 2\. Didn't have time to proofread it so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> If you like this side of Natasha, I really liked writing this so please feel free to comment with any thoughts/criticisms! Kudos are very much appreciated :)

_Are you insane like me?_

She grinds in the gym, punching the red bag over and over again, her frustration and anger all funneling into one force, and she can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about Wanda and how the brunette looked into her mind, bringing up memories she had worked so hard to bury.

Each punch is like another force, a jab of anger at the young witch. And she keeps on punching, working herself into a frenzy, a fiery, _insane_ red force that can’t be stopped.

 

_Been in pain like me?_

Natasha sits on the couch, thinking about everything and nothing; about the memories Wanda brought up, about how this teen was now living in the same building as her.

And she looks into the fireplace and suddenly she’s back there, back watching her house burn down, her parents inside, watching as her life and her love all blow up with the smoke.

She loved, _loves_ her parents even though she can’t really remember them; there are only fleeting images of a kind woman watching over her, an orderly but soft man wrapping his arms tight around her before he left for work and it’s _painful_ to watch them disappear as the fire burns, the red embers cracking, the sound like the one she hears now.

 

_Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me?_

Sometimes, she just wants to forget, wants to drink herself into oblivion, feel her mind go numb as she swallows another mouthful of alcohol, forget all the pain that resurfaced with the appearance of the little witch.

 

_Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?_

Other times, she wants to feel as alert as possible, wants to watch everyone around her as they interact, see what they have that she doesn’t.

Because they, _they_ are happy even when they aren’t, content with their lives filled with love, joy, and everything that she never got.

She notices Wanda watches from afar too.

 

_Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?_

She takes the towel from the rack and wipes the blood from her knuckles. It had been a particularly long workout, and she watches as the crimson spots of blood ruin the perfect white piece of cloth.

That towel had been with her since SHIELD had recruited her, and she had found herself in a particularly harrowing situation a couple years ago being cornered in her bathroom and it was that towel that got her out of it.

The red on it doesn't look unfamiliar at all.

 

_Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?_

She had made the mistake of looking into Wanda’s eyes once during a long dinner, and the sensation that she got sent chills up her spine, almost made her stop breathing it was so intense.

The green, hazel, blue all stared at her and she felt like she was _on_ something, the high was so great.

 

_Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?_

When she was fourteen, she had been sent out on a mission to steal some plans from some engineer who was a threat to Red Room. It was a party, one with lots of alcohol, suits, and girls that she had found herself at, wearing a dress that was really more like a bikini it showed so much.

And she did what she was taught to do, _seduce,_ following commands like the proper weapon she was.

That engineer had roughly pushed into her that night, taking her virginity and it felt like she was being torn apart it was so _wrong._

Another part of her was lost that day but she had gotten the plans, so it was considered a success.

 

_Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?_

“Before SHIELD, I had made a name for myself.” Natasha says, looking outside the window, Wanda sitting on the chair beside her. “I didn’t care who I killed, as long as I succeeded. There was never any emotion to it.”

“It was a cruel world, sure, but I _thrived_ there because there were no emotions. I’ve only been programmed to kill, be a weapon, and that’s what I am.”

“A weapon of mass destruction.”

 

_Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me?_

“Do you ever wonder what you could’ve been if you had lived a normal life?” Natasha asks Wanda as they watch the news together, five feet away from each other on the couch.

The brunette is silent for a moment before she answers. “Of course. But then our-” she grapples for the right word, “potential would have been wasted.”

“So you believe that the numbness is worth it?” Natasha says, her voice quiet.

Wanda takes in a deep breath before answering. “Yes.”

“To do good, we sacrifice ourselves. And there’s no waste in that.”

 

_And all the people say / You can't wake up, this is not a dream_

When she’s in combat mode, killing people with the flick of her wrists, she feels like she’s running on autopilot, the triggers pulling just like _that._

She wants to wake up from all of this, from all of the killing, wants to _human_ side of her to show itself. But it’s impossible to wake up, impossible to bring out the part of her that has been dragged through the dust and left to die.

 

_You're part of a machine, you are not a human being_

“This is who I am; a part of a well-oiled killing machine, a person that isn’t human. Love was always for children, and I’ve never thought I would be able to feel anything close to affection, close to human emotion. I’ve only killed, only destroyed lives.” And she looks to the brunette, watches as a flicker of _understanding_ flashes through her eyes.

They do have something in common after all.

“HYDRA wanted me to be a weapon,” Wanda finally says, turning away from the redhead’s piercing green eyes, “and I was for a while. I was a weapon for Ultron too, a tool to be used.”

“I destroyed your life the moment I looked into your mind, and I’m sorry for that.”

 

_With your face all made up, living on a screen_

Sometimes she just feels like a fucking mess, so she puts on her mask and hides it all under, hides her confusion, her emotions all underneath.

The mask is good enough to fool almost everyone.

Except for Wanda.

The brunette walks towards her the moment she steps out of her bedroom, “what’s wrong?” and when Natasha replies “everything” the little witch drags the redhead into her own bedroom, the one two doors down from Natasha’s.

And then Wanda shoves Natasha into the closed bedroom door meeting her lips with the redhead’s, her mouth taking control over Natasha’s, pushing her against the wooden door, pinning the redhead’s wrists with her hands.

“Better?” Wanda asks as she pulls away for air, breathless, forehead leaning against Natasha's, arms still raised to keep the redhead’s arms up.

“Yes.” Natasha manages to get out before arching her back to push herself forward into Wanda’s body, Wanda’s lips and it’s almost okay, everything is fine as long as she is kissing Wanda.

 

_Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline_

Except now, her gasoline was _Wanda_ , not anything else.

She feels like she could take over the _world_ when Wanda kisses her and she lives _for_ it because it’s either this or more, more, more killing, more lies, more seduction, more weapon-like behavior.

And maybe there’s a part of her that will always be a weapon, always be a manmade force that isn’t human, isn’t really capable of feeling anything.

But with Wanda, she feels like she can _wake up,_ revive that part of her she thought was lost, gone, the part that made her human that was killed long ago.  

And with each interaction, she feels like she’s being pieced back together.


End file.
